


Augmenta

by lucylooksintoawardrobe



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst, Bullshit Science, Canon Divergent, M/M, POV Alternating, Plot, Team Science! - Freeform, Technobabble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylooksintoawardrobe/pseuds/lucylooksintoawardrobe
Summary: After an experiment gone wrong, Paul Stamets and Michael Burnham are trapped, non-corporeal, and unable to communicate with the rest of the crew. How will they ever find their way back to the ones that they love?
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	1. Very far from normal

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks, I'm finally writing fanfiction again! And I'm going with the tried and tested (albeit only once) method of stealing a TNG premise, applying it to Discovery, adding a boatload of angst, and giving it a Latin title to be pretentious. 
> 
> In terms of timeline, this is set after the jump to the future, but is canon divergent from the very beginning of s3. Basically, they're in the future, but Michael wasn't separated from the ship, and none of the s3 characters/plot lines are going to be relevant to this. 
> 
> As ever, many thanks to my wonderful beta-reader @DanceWithMeForScience

Paul came around slowly, his head ringing, and every muscle in his body aching as though he’d run the infamous 100-mile marathon on Andor. Colours, sounds, sensations were returning one by one, but muted, as though he were in thick fog. Struggling with his exhausted body, Paul forced himself to sit up.

 _Where the hell am I_? was his first thought. The answer came easily enough. The Discovery, he was still on the Discovery, except instead of being in engineering or his quarters or the mess hall or the bridge or any other part of the ship he might reasonably be expected to be, he was in the brig.

Well, not actually _inside_ the brig. Not inside one of the cells at least. He was leaning up against one of the bulkheads, directly opposite holding cell B. None of the cells were occupied currently, so there was no guard stationed in the room. He was alone.

 _What the hell am I doing here?_ was his second thought. That was a lot harder to answer.

He ran his memory back, trying to recall the chain of events that might have brought him here, but there seemed to be some details missing. The last thing he remembered was…

_Engineering. I was in engineering. In the spore chamber… there was an explosion... FUCK._

Paul sat up properly then, the remnants of his last memory sending a surge of adrenaline through him. They’d been in the spore chamber. Him and Michael. Trying a new experiment with the mycelium. Something had gone wrong, there’d been a burst of light, and then… nothing.

He’d thought he was going to die, Paul remembered with sickening clarity. For a split second he’d thought it was the end. Just because of a stupid experiment gone wrong. Well, it would certainly have been in character.

But clearly, he wasn’t dead, going by his very alive-feeling body. But why the hell was he down in the brig? If the explosion didn’t kill him, why would he have been moved here? And where was Michael?

Thinking about Michael triggered another wave of concern. What if she hadn’t been so lucky? He needed to find out what had happened.

He stood up slowly, still feeling a little shaky. But his legs held him, and he strode towards the door. He came to a halt very abruptly as he realised it wasn’t opening. He blinked in surprise, and moved towards the door again. Still no response.

Paul frowned. He was so used to doors on this ship opening automatically that it was frankly disconcerting to see one immobile, throwing off his mental equilibrium even more than the confusion over waking up in the brig. He reached out his hand and waved it in front of the door, hoping to activate the sensor. Still nothing.

Pauls sighed in annoyance, and reached towards the control panel by the door, hoping to access the manual override. Only for his hand to pass clean through the screen.

Paul froze, then snatched his hand back as though he’d been stung. For a moment he simply stared at the place where his hand had appeared to pass through solid silicon and polycarbonates.

 _Exactly - it only_ appeared _to pass through. You’re clearly just imagining things, it’s some leftover of the accident. Of_ course _you can touch that screen. Reach out and do it now._

Tentatively, Paul reached out his hand again, hovering above the panel. He delicately pressed his fingers towards the screen.

They passed through again.

For a few moments, Paul stared at his hand. Suspended inside a solid control panel as though it were made of air. Then very slowly, he withdrew it again. He held his hand up in front of his face, staring at it blankly. Very deliberately, he brought up his other hand, and pinched his fingers. They were there. Real and solid.

Paul closed his eyes and counted to five before reaching out with his other hand. The same thing happened.

_Okay, this is weird. This is definitely weird. This is very far from normal, in fact._

Opening his eyes, he reached out both hands towards the door instead. The door gave as little resistance as the control panel.

Paul took several deep breaths, trying to prevent hyperventilation. Not easy, when all the known laws of physics were apparently being defied right in front of him.

 _Did I break the universe??_ _Did my stupid experiment undo physics somehow?? What colossal fuck-up on my part could have caused this???_

A moment later he chastised himself for getting carried away. _You are a scientist. There is a rational explanation for this. Figure it out._

How to get out of the room though? Looking at the door, Paul wondered: could he walk straight through it? If his hands had passed through, could the rest of his body? He was strangely hesitant to try. The door just looked so _solid_ and impenetrable _._

Gathering his nerve, Paul shut his eyes and took one large step forward. Then another one. He felt nothing. Opening his eyes a crack, he found himself in the corridor outside the brig. When he turned to look at the door behind him, it was still closed, as impassable and solid-looking as ever.

Paul took another deep breath and turned left down the corridor. Time to find out what the hell was going on.

Walking down the corridor, Paul considered the possibilities. The experiment that he and Michael had been conducting had been for a short-range transporter. Being close to 1000 years away from everything they knew, the crew was increasingly aware that the next time a vital system broke, they couldn’t go to the nearest star base to repair it. So in the interest of having a back-up system, they were experimenting with a new form of internal ship transportation using the mycelial network as a conduit, similar to Paul’s early experiments with transporting people from planet to planet. Given the much smaller distances within the confines of the ship, it had seemed entirely feasible.

Clearly though, Paul had once again failed to account for something. He felt heavy-hearted at the thought of his late lab assistant Charlie, dead because he went too fast, because Paul pushed him to go too fast, when they didn’t have all the information yet. He dearly hoped Michael hadn’t met the same fate.

Upon reaching the turbolift, another logistical issue immediately presented itself. Although Paul could pass through the door, as he’d done with the door to the brig, it seemed that the turbolift wasn’t responding to his voice. No matter how loudly he spoke his destination, the lift remained stubbornly still.

After several fruitless moments trying to interact with another completely non-corporeal control panel, Paul started pacing around the turbolift, trying to think of options.

He couldn’t climb up the turbolift shaft, his hands would just pass through the rungs. There were no other ways to move between the decks except the Jeffries tubes, but he knew there was nowhere he could access the tubes on this deck which wouldn’t involve having to pull himself up, which would be impossible if he couldn’t touch anything. Would he even be able to crawl through the tubes anyway? The deck seemed to feel pretty solid beneath him, but would the tubes?

While he was still pondering options, the solution abruptly presented itself in the form of a young ensign who walked into the lift and said ‘Deck Four’, without a glance at Paul.

“Ensign,” Paul said relieved, “thank god, something really weird is happening…” Paul broke off as he noticed that the ensign was completely ignoring him. “Ensign Harley?” he tried again, with the same result.

Paul frowned and waved his hand in front of the ensign’s face to attract their attention. The ensign continued to ignore him. In fact, Paul noted with alarm, there was no response at all in their eyes, nothing to suggest they could see his hand at all, as though Paul were…

_Invisible. I’m invisible. They can’t hear me, or see me, or…_

Paul reached out again to touch the ensign’s shoulder. With sickening deja vu, his hand passed straight through them.

_Or touch me. There’s no way to let them know I’m here._

Paul was really starting to panic now. If no one could see him or hear him, if he couldn’t interact with anyone in any way, how in the hell was he going to communicate with them?

Paul took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and just focused on the familiar whir of the turbolift around him. It was a technique Hugh had taught him once to calm himself down when he was stressed. It was his voice that spoke in Paul’s head, guiding him on what to do next.

_One problem at a time. Get to Engineering and figure out what happened._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're intrigued, interested, or even mildly inspirited by this first chapter! I'll be posting once a week for the foreseeable future, but might have to slow down as we go.
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive


	2. Varying definitions of 'okay'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @DanceWithMeForScience for beta-reading

Paul followed Ensign Harley out of the lift when it reached Deck Four. By a stroke of luck, Engineering just happened to be on this deck.

Or maybe it wasn’t luck at all? Ensign Harley seemed to be heading straight for Engineering. And now Paul paid more attention. They were walking very fast, and their expression was worried. Paul increased his pace to match theirs, freshly concerned again.

When they reached Engineering, it was a lot busier than it had been when Paul was last here. Various members of the crew – most of them science or operations – were gathered around, hunched over workstations or talking in hushed whispers. Paul noticed Reno tucked underneath the main spore control station, frowning at the wiring. And over by the spore chamber, Tilly was talking to Saru, looking white as a sheet. Paul walked over to listen to their conversation.

“…just don’t understand how this could have happened. I mean, everything was going perfectly - textbook almost. And then suddenly out of nowhere there was a spike in the spore concentrations inside the chamber. That’s the last thing I remember seeing before there was this flash of white light – I had to close my eyes it was so bright. And then when I opened them, Mi – I mean Commanders Burnham and Stamets were gone. Just disappeared.” Tilly paused her spiel and gave a shaky breath. “Of course, I thought at first that the transporter had just done its job like we predicted, but I’ve already scanned the ship and the ship’s sensors can’t detect them anywhere on board. We’re still trying to figure out what happened. But we  _ will _ find them sir, we  _ will- _ ”

“Thank you, Ensign,” Saru cut her off gently. “I hate to ask this but, can you be sure they’re still alive? Is there any possibility they could have been… vapourised,” Saru seemed to stumble over the word before collecting himself, “by the bright light you described? Could it have been some kind of explosion?”

Tilly took a deep breath, looking, if possible, even paler. “I’ve... scanned the air inside the chamber,” she said in a small voice, “and couldn’t find any trace of… organic remains. I think we can rule out the possibility that they’re… you know...”

“That is encouraging, Ensign. And if anyone can find out what happened, it is you. Continue your analysis. I must get back to the bridge, but I will expect reports on your progress every two hours.”

“Yes, sir,” Tilly replied, her mood seeming a little bolstered.

Saru turned, and any hopes that Paul had that the Kelpien would be able to see him with his enhanced vision were dashed when he walked straight through him to get to the door.

Paul was still blinking, trying to readjust after  _ that _ bizarre experience, when Reno walked up to Tilly.

“Good news, kid. Well, good and bad depending on how you look at it. There’s no issue with the wiring in the control station or the spore chamber as far as I can tell. Whatever happened with the experiment, the problem didn’t start there.”

“Thanks, Reno,” Tilly said. “I didn’t really expect that to be the issue, but we have to cover all bases you know?”

“Oh sure. Course, I would say that if you’re looking for problems you should start with the magical fungi, but that’s just me.”

“Protataxites stellaviatori,” Tilly and Paul responded simultaneously, the latter through gritted teeth.

“Sure, whatever. My point is that Stamets and Burnham are probably off somewhere surfing the mushroom highway, and they’ll be back in no time.” Reno clapped her hand on Tilly’s shoulder as she spoke, a gesture that Paul imagined was supposed to convey reassurance. 

“Thanks, Reno,” Tilly said softly.

“So, what’s the next move, kid? Without Stamets around to show off his intellect, you’re the resident expert on all things mushroom.”

“How do you still find time to insult me even when you’re trying to save my life,” Paul muttered, glaring at Reno and almost missing Tilly’s response.

“We should go back over the experiment data logs, see if there’s any clue in there as to what happened.”

Reno grinned. “And then we’ll find Burnham and Stamets and drag their asses back here so Stamets can hear the latest point in my argument of why using mushrooms for transport is a  _ bad idea. _ ” 

Paul was, of course, about to launch into an incisive, scientific, and entirely fruitless rebuttal to that claim. All thoughts of Reno were driven from Paul’s head however, when the doors to Engineering opened, and a new voice called down to them.

“Tilly?!”

_ Hugh. _

Paul turned quickly to see his partner hurry down the steps to the chamber, wearing his classic ‘trying-to-remain-calm-while-secretly-freaking-out’ expression.

“Dr Culber,” Tilly said hurriedly, “don’t worry, we didn’t find any remains!”

Hugh stopped to stare at her, not looking at all reassured. Tilly closed her eyes, visibly whispered “ _ fuck” _ under her breath, and started again. “I mean… shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have started with that. I meant to say that we still don’t know what happened, but I’m sure they’re fine, they’ve  _ got _ to be fine…”

“Tilly,” Hugh said in a strained voice, “please, just tell me what happened.”

Tilly launched into a summary of events, but Paul was barely listening to her. All he could focus on was Hugh’s face, taut with worry, trying so hard to hide his fear. Hugh, who didn’t know that Paul was standing right next to him, safe and well but growing more afraid by the second.

“Hugh…” Paul said, slightly desperately, “I’m right here.”

Of course, Hugh didn’t respond to that. Paul reached out his hand to Hugh’s face, but paused at the last moment, not wanting to see himself pass through his lover’s skin as though he were smoke. “Hugh? Hugh! Look at me! You have to hear me!  _ You have to see me!” _

_ You can always see me. Even when no one else can. _

Unable to resist any longer, he tried to touch his partner’s cheek. When that failed, he kept trying to touch Hugh anywhere he could reach, on his shoulder, his chest, back to his face, all the while growing more desperate, pleading with Hugh to hear him. 

“That won’t work, Paul,” a gentle voice said behind him.

Paul spun around. There, standing by the door and  _ looking straight at him _ , was Michael Burnham.

“Michael? You’re alive? You can see me?!”

Michael smiled reassuringly. “Yes, to both.”

Paul sighed with relief and walked over her. He was unable to resist the urge to pull her into a hug, desperately needing the touch of another person to reassure him that he wasn’t going crazy. She seemed about as surprised as the last time he’d hugged her unexpectedly, but she awkwardly patted her hands on his back nonetheless.

Pulling away, he mumbled, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Likewise. Although our definitions of ‘okay’ may vary.”

“So, you’re invisible too? And you can’t touch anything – you just pass right through it?”

“Yes,” Michael responded. “Except each other, it seems. Do you have any idea what happened? What caused this?”

“None. The experiment was supposed to be for a short-range transporter, not…  _ this. _ Whatever the hell  _ this _ is.”

“Well, the transporter element seems to work at least. I woke up in sickbay, so I must have been transported through the mycelial network as we predicted.”

“Yes, same for me, I woke up in the brig.”

“The brig?” Michael said, raising her eyebrows, “how did you get up here?”

“I had to wait for someone to use the turbolift.”

“Same here, I had to follow Dr Culber here from sickbay.” Michael frowned. “If we can’t get around the ship without following people, this is going to be tricky.”

At the mention of Hugh, Paul had turned to look back at his partner, still talking with Tilly. She had finished her description of events, and was now trying to reassure him.

“There’s no reason to believe the worst yet. We’re going to review the data logs and that should shed some light on what’s happened. I promise I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thanks, Tilly,” Hugh responded, still sounding slightly strained. “I know you’ll do your best; you always do. Just… I want to hear about everything. Right away as soon as you find anything you let me know, okay?” Hugh took a deep breath then. “Good news or bad.”

“Of course,” Tilly responded softly.

Hugh turned to leave Engineering. Paul immediately swung back around to Michael. “I have to go with him,” he said quickly.

“Are you sure?” Michael responded uncertainly, stepping aside instinctively so Hugh could pass her. “I doubt you’ll be able to get through to him,” she said gently.

“I have to try,” Paul said firmly. “If I can get through to anyone, it’ll be him.”

Michael must have heard the note of desperation in his voice, because she nodded after a quick moment of deliberation. “Okay, but meet me in the mess hall in two hours, or however soon you can get there. Hurry, or you’ll lose him.”

Paul didn’t waste any more time. He nodded gratefully at Michael, then hurried through the door of Engineering to catch up with his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Culmets Sunday!
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive


	3. PS312

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta-reader @DanceWithMeForScience

After Paul had left, Michael allowed herself a few moments to feel relieved that she wasn’t completely alone. As much as she regretted that he was stuck in this bizarre situation with her, it was a comfort to know that they had each other. Past experience had taught her that there was little she feared more than isolation.

It was strange to feel isolated in a room full of people, but it was a feeling that Michael used to be well accustomed to. Not for a long time though, and of course, she’d never experienced it in _quite_ this way before.

She approached Tilly, who was now behind the spore control station with the logs in front of her, her eyes flashing from left to right scanning the lines of data anxiously. Stepping behind her friend, Michael read the data over her shoulder. 

Unfortunately, there was little to be gleaned from the information. Row after row scrolled by, and nothing appeared out of place, or strange. Everything had been correctly set up, all variables were accounted for, and the experiment had progressed exactly as predicted, until the moment the spore concentrations abruptly increased by a factor of almost ten.

Tilly seemed to have come to the same conclusion, as she hovered for several long moments over that part of the log, frowning at the screen as if she could will it to make sense with the force of her expression. Michael felt the similar frustration of a scientist observing an effect without a known cause, and scrambling for possibilities.

“Okay, think,” Tilly murmured to herself. “what could cause the spores to spontaneously multiply like that?”

Tilly’s habit of talking herself through complex scientific problems had once confused Michael, but over time she had come to appreciate it, and even made use of it when they were working together. It was no surprise when she found herself responding on instinct. “High energy gamma rays. Strong magnetic fields.”

Tilly nodded as though she’d heard her friend speak. “Computer. Show the course of the Discovery over the past four hours,” Tilly said.

The logs blinked away and the star map of the sector they were traversing appeared in their place. Michael and Tilly scoured the route, but as expected there was nothing that might have interfered with the spores. The ship’s planned route was always factored into their calculations ahead of any experiment anyway, to prevent this very occurrence.

Michael murmured, “So if there was nothing in the external environment that could have caused it, then…”

“The spores!” Tilly said, coming to the exact same conclusion. “Computer, scan the spores in the chamber and show a genetic analysis.”

The full genetic sequence appeared on the display. Michael had seen this gene sequence so many times over the past two years that her eyes were immediately drawn to the discrepancy – a single erroneous gene sequence flashing like a neon sign. She recognised it immediately, and judging by the horrified gasp next to her, she knew that Tilly did too.

“Oh no,” Tilly said quietly, her eyes wide. “Oh no oh no oh please god no.”

As if sensing Tilly’s distress, Reno suddenly materialised beside her. “Where’s the ghost, kid?” she asked, concern in her voice.

Tilly pointed to the gene sequence, seemingly unable to form words.

Reno glanced at the display, then back to Tilly. “Sorry, Tilly, gearhead here remember? You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

Tilly swallowed. “At the end of the Klingon war… we had run out of spores. We needed a new source quickly and didn’t have time to find somewhere we could harvest them naturally. Commander Stamets still had his original sample though, and using that, we were able to terraform an entire planet with mycelium.”

Reno’s eyebrows raised. “How?”

“We… had to modify the strain so that it could reproduce at an accelerated rate. We used a gene… PS312 – that sequence you can see there – and spliced it into the sample so that the spores would multiply extra quickly, and terraform the planet in a matter of hours. And then all the samples we collected from the planet we irradiated to render that gene inactive, to ensure that we could keep the spore concentrations under control while we were using them.” 

“I see,” Reno said, looking back at the display. “But I’m guessing this sample somehow got missed? The gene is still active and that’s why the spore concentrations suddenly multiplied.”

“I don’t understand…” Tilly said, “I don’t understand how this happened. We were thorough in checking those samples. We made sure every single one was irradiated. I thought I…” and Tilly suddenly looked heartbroken. This was _my responsibility_ ” she said, her voice wavering. “Oh god… this is my fault…”

“Hold your horses, Tilly, let’s not jump to conclusions,” Reno said carefully.

“What other conclusion can there be?!” Tilly said. And suddenly she was wiping her eyes furiously, turning away from Reno so she couldn’t see the tears starting to prick in the corners of her eyes. But Michael could see.

Reno frowned, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Hang on a second, Tilly. Wait here. Don’t move.” Reno dashed over to the other side of the room to the replicator. 

As she watched Tilly slowly start to shake, Michael felt utterly helpless, but nevertheless she reached out her hand and tried to soothe her friend, hoping the message would get through somehow. “Tilly... it’s okay. Don’t cry, Tilly.” It occurred to Michael that if Sarek were here, he would comment on the illogic of trying to comfort her friend when she had no hope of hearing her. She found that she didn’t much care for logic at this precise moment. “Tilly, it’s all going to be alright. I have absolute faith in you. I know you’ll figure this out – you always do.”

Reno arrived back at that moment, clutching a mug of something in her hands.

“Here,” she said, handing it to Tilly. “It’s chamomile tea. Best cure-all I know for shaken nerves and various other emotional ailments. Drink up, and then buckle up. We’ve still got work to do.”

Tilly stared at the drink in her hands, slightly confused. “How’d you get it to come in a mug?”

“Jury-rigged the replicator down here a couple of weeks ago. No way I’m drinking tea or coffee out of a _cup._ ”

Tilly actually laughed a little, and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. She took a small sip of the tea. “Okay, you’re right, Reno. No giving up. We now know how the spores multiplied. So now we need to figure out what effect that might have had on the experiment.” She took a deep breath, and then another sip. “One step at a time.”

“That’s my girl,” Michael said fondly, and Reno clapped her hand on Tilly’s shoulder, clearly in agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read and enjoyed so far! I appreciate your comments very much <3
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive


	4. A blond ghost with clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to my beta-reader @DanceWithMeForScience

After leaving engineering, Hugh had gone straight back to sickbay to continue his shift. This didn’t surprise Paul at all. He and his partner were different in many ways, but one way in which they were similar was their laser-like focus on work when they were trying to take their mind off worry. Of course, Paul could be very laser-like even when all was well, but he recognised the symptoms of a person trying just a little too hard to keep it together. 

He watched Hugh anxiously as he went about his duty, checking in with patients with the same friendly bedside manner that he always displayed. Only Paul could see the tense set of his shoulders, the slight lengthening of the lines on his forehead, signalling his distress. He even noticed the occasional flicker of his partner’s eyes to the comm panel, as if he were trying to resist the urge to contact engineering for an update he knew would reveal nothing new. 

Paul’s heart ached to see his partner so worried, with no way to comfort him. In the turbolift, Paul had tried again to attract Hugh’s attention any way he could think, all to no avail. Now, staring at his back, Paul was regretting leaving Michael behind for this fruitless endeavour. He should be with her, trying to solve the problem, not shadowing his lover like a ghost.

_A ghost._

It occurred to Paul very suddenly that ‘ghost’ was a very apt descriptor for what he was. A disembodied spirit; invisible and non-corporeal. And suddenly that thought was leading to a whole new minefield of possibilities, which soon had Paul spiralling into panic.

_What if I’m actually dead?_

_What if Michael and I died in the accident and now we’re ghosts?_

_Fuck._

Now that he’d thought it aloud it seemed strange that the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He’d been in an accident, and woken up as an invisible, silent entity that could _walk through walls._ Sure, ghosts hadn’t exactly formed part of Paul’s worldview prior to this, but he was a big believer in not ignoring evidence that was right in front of him.

 _I_ am _dead. I died in that explosion and my body was destroyed. My soul is now trapped here for all eternity. My soul wears clothes. I’m a blond ghost with clothes._

A moment later, Paul was laughing to himself. Okay, so maybe the ghost theory had some holes. 

He looked up at Hugh again. “You would laugh to see me now,” he said ruefully, “letting myself get distracted by crazy, irrational theories.” His smile faded slightly. “I always go a bit irrational around you, don’t I, dear doctor?” He sighed. “But that’s no excuse for panic. And so I promise that I will assume that I’m alive until I’m presented with incontrovertible evidence otherwise.”

Paul’s smile faded further as he watched his partner fill in some paperwork between patients. Hugh had deliberately turned to face the corner as he stared down at his PADD, so that no one could see the way his face was drawn tight with worry, his hands slightly shaking as he typed.

“Hugh?” A voice came from behind them both.

Paul startled slightly, but it was nothing compared to Hugh’s reaction; he jumped and spun around, his eyes wide with a hint of panic. Paul winced in sympathy. His partner still didn’t do well with surprises.

He turned to see Doctor Pollard looking at Hugh with a concerned, and slightly guilty expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Hugh had already outwardly recovered. “it’s okay, not a problem. Can I help you, Doctor?”

“I just wanted to make sure that you know that you don’t have to finish this shift if you don’t feel up for it. Under the circumstances, no one would mind if you wanted to take the rest of the day off.”

Hugh took a deep breath. “Thank you, Tracy, but for now, I’d rather be here.”

Doctor Pollard appraised him silently for a few moments, before nodding. “Alright. I trust that you know what’s best for you in these circumstances. But if you feel at any point that your judgment is being impaired…”

“Of course,” Hugh said hurriedly. He frowned. “I hope you haven’t noticed any problems with my work?”

“Not at all,” Doctor Pollard said reassuringly, “except, well… you did make three spelling mistakes in Lieutenant Xciapalipstiosasf’s name when you filed her paperwork earlier, but that’s actually better than average so…”

Hugh actually cracked a small smile at that. Paul drank in the sight of it. He had a sudden awful feeling of foreboding that it might be the last smile he would see on his partner’s face for a while.

“I’ll leave you to your work,” Doctor Pollard said, before walking away.

Paul watched his partner take a deep breath, then return to his patients. Determined, calm, and almost effortlessly competent. But underneath it all, deeply afraid.

It occurred to Paul that he’d never faced this particular purgatory. For him, Hugh had been alive one minute and dead the next. Which had been horrific enough, but at least he’d been spared this. This small eternity when the one you love is gone, lost, and you don’t know where they are, whether they’re alright, when they’ll come back, whether they ever will. 

Paul suddenly felt a rush of fury. Hugh had left _everything_ behind to follow him to the future. And after everything that they’d been through, after everything _Hugh_ had been through, this couldn’t happen again. They couldn’t be separated again. Never again.

“I’ll come back to you,” Paul said fiercely. “I promise you, Hugh, I will not let you go through what I did. You don’t deserve that; you _don’t deserve it_. Whatever it takes, I will find a way back to you, I swear.”

Paul turned and headed for the door out of sickbay. No more self-indulgence. Time to go to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this to you. I'm a big believer in managing expectations, so you should probably be aware that chapters of this will happen when they happen. In the meantime, I greatly appreciate the feedback I've got so far! Keep it coming - it is my fuel and motivation :)
> 
> You can find me on twitter/tumblr @lucyisalive


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